


Nightmare

by Shiny_Pichu



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Blood, M/M, because the only thing angst needs is more angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny_Pichu/pseuds/Shiny_Pichu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delico wakes up from a bad dream. ((SPOILER WARNING FOR UP TO CHAPTER 34 OF THE MANGA))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tastewithouttalent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/gifts).



It’s warm.

Delico can feel the thin lines of sunlight hitting him from the cracks in the blinds. The blankets are heavy but comfy over him. The strong arm slung over his waist is even heavier, and the breathing at the back of his neck is hot and comforting in a way he can’t really explain until he blinks his eyes of lingering drowsiness. At the back of his mind he wonders why the alarm isn’t going off. He so rarely wakes up before it. 

Though his vision still looks blurry at the edges, Delico shifts under the covers, tries to turn over without waking his bedmate, but it proves difficult if not impossible, so by the time he’s finally rolled over onto his other side Yang is mumbling some incoherent noise of roused consciousness, eyebrows creasing for a moment before one eye opens halfway to process the face in front of him.

“Delico…?” 

“Sorry,” Delico says quick and soft, a hand moving to rest on the other’s bare chest, “Go back to sleep.”

Another eye opens partway, and then Yang is blinking slowly. It doesn’t really seem to make him any more alert, but the grogginess of his words doesn’t erase the concern in his tone, “Wasswrong?”

Delico can feel the surprise flicker through his features. He hadn’t realized his expression was giving away any distress. Or maybe Yang can just tell. Delico opens his mouth for automatic reassurance, but something catches in his throat, and he closes it. Pauses for a beat before opening it again. 

“…Nothing,” Delico smiles gently, and then he moves in closer and down to tuck his head into the dip of Yang’s neck, “Just a bad dream.”

“Oh…?” Yang breathes, sounding a little more awake but probably has his eyes closed. The arm around Delico pulls him in tighter, “You okay?”

“Mmhm,” Delico hums, lips touching the other’s skin, “Wasn’t the usual…” he murmurs as his own eyes drift back closed, “Just…”

…Huh?

Strange. He couldn’t remember what the dream was about. Although, maybe that was for the best. It was still an odd feeling, when he was sure he could recall all of it as clear as day a minute ago. It was sort of disorienting. Like he was forgetting something important.

Yang doesn’t seem to notice the trailing off sentence. Delico can feel a kiss at the top of his head, then a mumbled, “Ten more minutes,” as if there was still some parental figure to force them out of bed before they were late for school. It makes Delico smile wider, and he’d chuckle if he wasn’t about to drift back to sleep pretty soon.

Delico nuzzles closer against Yang, and he snakes an arm around the other’s middle for a hand to rest at the small of his back. Delico faintly feels their legs tangling up together when he feels something else that makes him open his eyes again.

“…Huh?”

His fingers touch something wet at Yang’s back. Delico pulls back a few inches, and brings his arm out from under the blankets to look at the blood on his hand.

It’s warm. The whole bed is warm. Yang is warm. The red smeared on his fingers is warm. Delico didn’t really think about it before, but now he’s jerking back and yanking the covers away. There are more bullet holes. Five of them. The mattress under them is completely red. Soaked in liquid like a sponge. It’s spreading to the covers and blankets. It’s warm. But Yang’s skin is turning white. That’s right. It’s not supposed to be warm. It’s _not_ warm. Why did he ever consider such a lie in the first place?

Delico’s eyes dart away from Yang’s body to his face. 

_**What’s wrong, Delico…?**_

Yang tries to touch him with blood dripping from his wrists, and Delico jolts backwards as he screams himself awake where it’s cold on the rooftop.


End file.
